Strong Enough
by That Guy Who Ships Niff
Summary: ONESHOT: Pre-series; Sam's being bullied and Dean helps him out. It's your typical Teen!Chester oneshot.


_**A/N**_: I'm new to _Supernatural_ and its completely insane fandom, so if Sam and Dean aren't personality perfect, I apologize. And yes, this is another one of those 'Sam's being bullied Teen!Chester' oneshots (I've seen the amount of them), but I figured to add one of my own.

* * *

_Supernatural_ belongs to Eric Kripke and The CW, you know the drill. Dean's 16, Sam's 12.

* * *

"Sam?" 16-year-old Dean Winchester lay on his bed tossing a football in the air when he'd heard the front door open and close. "Sammy, is that you?" No answer except another door closing. Dean got up and headed down the hall towards his brother's room.

"Sam, you alright?" He knocked on the door gently.

"Go away, Dean!" Dean cringed at the break in Sam's voice. He opened the door slightly to see Sam lying facedown on his bed.

"What's wrong, dude?" Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed and poked his brother in the side, making him groan.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Sam muttered, not lifting his head. Dean sighed and went over to Sam's desk, where he picked up a bottle of concealer.

"Sam, what is this? Concealer or something?"

"It's nothing, Dean. Just leave me alone."

"Sam, something's wrong and I'm not leaving until you tell me what's up." Dean folded his arms and leaned against the desk. Sam got up and glared at his older brother. "Shit, Sammy, where'd you get that shiner?"

"I ran into a door." Sam looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"Sam, whatever son of a bitch is doing this to you, I will kick the shit out of them, you know that." It wouldn't be the first time.

"That's the thing, Dean," Sam sighed heavily. "I want to stand up for myself for once. That's why Owen and his friends torture me. Because I'm a wimp."

"Sam, you're not a wimp. You just..." Dean didn't know how to finish that sentence. Sure, Sam was scrawnier than most kids his age, but that didn't mean he had to suffer. "Let me give you some tips, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy."

* * *

The next day, Sam took a deep breath before entering Kripke Junior High School. His eyes darted everywhere as he navigated down the hallway. Sam relaxed a little, realizing that he might make it to homeroom without a confrontation, but was yanked into the boys' room.

"Morning, Wimpchester," Owen McDonnen sneered as his two cronies held Sam against the wall. Sam remembered what Dean had told him: to keep his mouth shut. "What's the matter, dork? You deaf or something? Don't I get a 'good morning'?"

"What do you want from me?" Sam winced from the grip on his arms. "If you want money, I...don't have any." He knew one slip up would earn him his head in the toilet.

"_I don't have any_," Owen mimicked, grabbing a fistful of Sam's shirt. "Search his bag," he ordered. One guy let go and upturned Sam's backpack. Sam watched as the bottle of concealer fell out. Owen picked it up and grinned.

"Is little Sammy wearing lipstick? You wanna be a girl, _Samantha_?"

"It's concealer, you use it to cover bruises. Oh wait, this isn't enough for yours," Sam shot back, mentally slapping himself for losing his temper so quickly.

"Guess what, Winchester, I'm feeling generous, so I'll make you a deal. You drink this," Owen shook the small vial, "and I won't kick your ass. You don't and you'll wish you never transferred here."

"I've been wishing that from day one," Sam snapped, trying to wrench himself away from the taller boy. "Let me go."

"You know, this is fun, so no." Owen shook Sam by his shirt. Sam clenched his fist and before he realized it, Owen had released him and was tending to his now-bleeding nose.

"Holy shit, man, Winchester _can_ fight for himself," one guy said. Owen wiped his nose with a paper towel and advanced on Sam menacingly.

"It was a lucky shot," he said calmly. Sam was surprised; normally, Owen would have punched his lights out. "But he can't do it again. After school, Winchester, you and I are going to have it out. Better be there." Without another glance, Owen left the bathroom, his two goons in tow.

"Shit."

* * *

Sam sat in his classes, trying to look as if he were concentrating. He would never say it out loud, but he was actually terrified of Owen McDonnen. His first day at Kripke was horrible not only because everyone looked at him weird for transferring in mid-March, but because that was the day Owen and his friends had hoisted a kid up the flagpole by his underwear.

The bell rang for lunch and Sam went outside to get some fresh air. He pulled out his phone and rang Dean.

"Hello?" Dean sounded as if he'd just awoken.

"You'll never let me live this down, but...I need your help," Sam said. "I punched him in the face."

"Normally I'd say good for you, but...oh, hell, good for you, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy. I'm serious, Dean."

"Alright, alright, I'll come by," Dean mumbled. "Just hold on, man." And he hung up.

"Hey, loser, you calling your mommy to come save you? Oh wait, you don't have one." Sam bit his lip and shut his eyes to keep from exploding. "Come on, Winchester, do something about it."

Sam took a breath and stood up to face Owen, who was smirking. "I'm not afraid of you," he hissed, lying through his teeth. He knew that this would probably result in getting his face broken, but he had to say it. "You're just an insecure prick whose dad is probably an alcoholic who hits you." The next thing Sam saw was the concrete.

"You shut your goddamn mouth, Winchester!" Owen snarled.

"Now you know how it feels," Sam scoffed, starting to get up, but Owen kicked him in the chest.

"Stay down, Wimpchester." Owen bent down next to him, grabbed his hair, pulling his head up, and whispered, "I'm going to kill you, you little shit. No one talks about my family like that and gets away with it."

Sam clutched his stomach. "You're one to talk, Owen."

"You're a dead man, Winchester." Owen slammed Sam's face into the pavement before standing up and walking away with his friends.

"Sam?" Sam could hear Dean's voice. He sat up, holding his nose. "Sam, dude, what happened?" Dean knelt down and studied his brother's face. "That's bleeding pretty bad. Come on." Dean helped him up and led him to the car. "Take this," he handed Sam a box of tissues, "and don't bleed on the seat."

"Dean, help me," Sam moaned, holding a bundle of tissues to his face.

"You said you wanted to stand up for yourself," Dean muttered, fumbling through his tape collection.

"Then teach me how to fight. You said you would eventually, why not now?" Dean let out a heavy sigh.

"Fine."

* * *

Sam returned to school for his last class. He walked into the classroom and immediately had Mrs. McGinty on him.

"Mr. Winchester, you're ten minutes late. Where were you?"

"Bathroom," Sam lied. "You know Taco Tuesday."

"All right, sit down," she said. Sam dodged Owen's outstretched foot on his way to his seat. He pulled his copy of _Hamlet_ out of his bag and flipped through it while watching the clock tick slowly.

"Forty-five minutes, twerp," Owen hissed from next to him, "and your ass is mine."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sam shot back. Owen could only glare at him.

* * *

The last bell rang and everyone left the room. Owen smirked at Sam on his way out. Sam grabbed his backpack and walked slowly out of the classroom behind Mrs. McGinty. Looking around, he dashed for the nearest exit and gingerly closed the door behind him. Relaxing a little, he turned and found Owen standing in front of him.

"Trying to run out on me, Wimpchester?"

"No, only trying to save you from serious injury," Sam replied, biting his lip nervously.

"Pfft, like you could do that, _Wimpchester_," Owen sneered.

"Stop calling me that. I'm not a wimp."

Owen shoved him against the door. "Yes, you are. You just tried to run away, Samantha. Here's your lipstick back." Owen emptied the concealer onto Sam's sneakers. Sam shut his eyes and let loose his fist, which struck Owen in the cheek, sending the boy reeling backwards. "Oh, it's on," he said, coming at Sam again.

Sam jumped over the stair railing and put up his fists, trying to remember everything Dean had taught him. Owen ran over and swung a fist at Sam, who ducked and belted the taller boy in the gut. Owen let out a groan and fell backwards when Sam punched him in the face.

"Oh, God," he moaned. Sam sat astride Owen and grabbed his shirt.

"You gonna stop?"

"Fuck you, Winchester," Owen spat. Sam released another punch, this time into Owen's chest, making the boy start wheezing. Owen's two buddies looked at each other in awe as Sam took the upper hand.

"I said, you gonna stop?" Owen relented and hit his head on the pavement.

"Yes," he said in defeat. Sam got up and dusted himself off, not noticing Owen pull out a knife. "I lied," he panted. Sam barely dodged the knife and jumped aside.

"Hey!" Sam never thought he'd be so happy as to hear Dean's voice. "What's going on, bro?"

"Dean, this is Owen, the guy I told you about," Sam said, pushing the rising Owen back to the ground with his foot. Dean snatched the knife out of Owen's hand and threw it to Sam.

"Here you go, Sam. Don't say I never give you anything."

"Yeah, you need your big brother to come save your ass." Owen cringed as he stood up.

"So you think picking on a twelve-year-old is funny, huh?" Dean grabbed Owen's jacket. "Does getting your ass kicked by an sixteen-year-old funny too?" He punched Owen in the face and dropped him to the ground. "Come on, Sam, let's go home." Dean walked away and Sam looked down at Owen.

He walked over to him. "Hey, Owen?"

"What do you want, Winchester?" he snapped, holding his bleeding lip.

"Am I a wimp now?"

"No, but you're still a little punk." Sam shrugged and ran off towards Dean.

* * *

"I'm proud of you, Sam," Dean said as he pulled into the driveway. "I think you did pretty good against that son of a bitch." Sam smiled and twirled the switchblade in his hand.

"Think I'm good enough to take you now?" Sam joked.

"You wish," Dean scoffed.

"I think I could," Sam smirked, nudging his older brother.

"Do you really want to do this now, Sammy? You'll just get hurt again." Dean got out of the car and stretched. Sam brushed past him and into the house. When he got inside, Sam was already sitting on the couch and watching him. "Sam, I'm serious. I'm still have some adrenaline from kicking the crap out of that kid."

"I think I'm strong enough." Sam walked over to his brother.

"Yeah, I think you are too. Come on, want to order a pizza to celebrate your win?"

"No anchovies, right?"

"No anchovies, I promise."

* * *

_**A/N2**_: If you love it, hate it, wanna give some advice, please leave a review. It helps me learn to write better.


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